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He leaned over me, reaching for the nightstand drawer, allowing me to glance down for a peek. He was hard and impressively sized, and I was eager to feel him inside me. Within moments, the condom was in place.
He asked one more time. “Are you sure?”
I smiled and nodded, pulling his face to mine for a kiss as I felt him slowly begin pushing into me. I moaned into his mouth, the sensation taking over us both. Breath quickened. Hands grasped at skin and squeezed.
The room filled with the sounds of our pleasured moaning and the rocking of the mattress on the bed until neither of us could hold back anymore.
I was the first to feel release—and it was like nothing I’d ever felt before. My whole body tingled and became rigid, grinding back into him as I let loose a satisfied moan.
“So seducente,” he moaned as release hit him. He pushed his hips into me and kissed me deeply as his body pistoned into mine, deeply and slowly, taking pleasure in our final moments of intimate exchange.
He collapsed against me, heaving and sweaty, and I held him tight in my arms.
“That was amazing,” I said, breathlessly. He nodded, kissing my neck.
Then he teased me. “I suppose this means I’m really in the game now, no?”
Chapter 8
The morning found me and Matteo still cuddled under the sheets in my cabin. He had stayed the night, and we had made love two more times in the meantime, each better than the last.
“Do you need to go to the kitchen?” I asked, noticing the time was creeping toward 3:30 a.m.—his usual time to start breakfast.
“No, compagna,” he said. “Today is an easy day. I made the pastries yesterday. They must only cut fruit this morning. I told them I would leave them to it.”
“You planned for this?” I teased.
“I planned to sleep,” he laughed. “But this is better.”
I rolled to my side, wrapping my arm around him and laying my head against his chest. I couldn’t argue with him. I’d rather stay up all night with him than sleep any day.
I caught a glimpse of the television, which had turned itself off in the night. I thought about the show I’d been watching the day before—with Chef Matteo—and embarrassment flashed through me. Had he paid it any mind? It had been muted, but occasionally on the show, the names would flash. Anxiety brewed in my chest at the realization he might have drawn the connection and found it a bit creepy.
Realizing this was an intrusive and unlikely thought, though, I shook it off. I took a deep breath and cuddled him closer.
“Have you always loved cooking?” I asked, trying to change the subject for myself, though still very much attached to the old one.
“I have,” he nodded. “When I was a child, my father would set me on the counters in the kitchen and cook with me, and I loved every moment. What I really loved, though, was visiting my grandfather. He was an amazing chef. He taught me so much about flavors and knife work. All the things that make a chef great, I learned from him.”
“That’s amazing,” I smiled.
He flashed a wide grin, remembering back fondly on his childhood. “Yes,” he said. “My grandfather had this collection of cookbooks. A really old one, almost like an encyclopedia of cooking. It was called Eating the Earth, and it had recipes and cooking techniques from every continent. There were seven books, each broken into chapters designating countries and regions.”
“That sounds amazing,” I said, smiling at his excitement as he recounted the memory. “Do you still have them?”
His expression changed. Suddenly, his excitement had turned to remorse.
“No,” he said. “As a young man, I did not keep up with the things that mattered to me. I had them with me for a while, but at some point I must have decided they were too heavy to carry along anymore. I don’t even remember what I did with them. I only know they are gone now.”
I nodded. “It’s easy to forget the importance of something in a moment and then regret it forever, isn’t it? I guess that’s probably why I have always been willing to pick up mom’s fashion line, even though I don’t want to. It’s something she did, and I feel like it’s my obligation to carry it on.”
“Yes,” he said. “But also sometimes we believe things to be more important than they should be. The fashion line has served your mother well, but what service could it be for you? It allowed her to give you a comfortable beginning of life. But does that mean you should be prisoner to it if it is not your own passion?”
“It has made her a very wealthy woman,” I said. “She always reminds me I will never want for anything as long as I take her advice and carry it forward the way she tells me to.”
“But can everything you want be bought with money?” Matteo asked. He continued, “Not for me, it cannot. Most of what I want for has no price on it. To love and be loved by someone special. To experience culture and live adventurously. These are things for which there is no price tag, and they are things that cannot be done with your eyes shut and your wings clipped. Only passion can bring them to you. Passion and fearlessness.”
“Is it sad that I don’t know what I want yet?” I asked. “I am twenty-six years old, and I have no idea what I want to do with my own life. I’ve never considered it because all my life I’ve been told that my path was already carved out for me. I’d grow up and take over the fashion line. I was never really asked what I wanted to do. The assumption of my future has always been there, and I never even thought to question it until I came on this trip and met you.”
